


Stovetop

by unclaspedkahuna



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Actually got a beta read but who knows how i'll feel about this in like two weeks, Dirk is a bitch, Other, Sadstuck, Verbal Abuse, bro strider - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unclaspedkahuna/pseuds/unclaspedkahuna
Summary: You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become Bro Strider.
Kudos: 15





	Stovetop

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] 

TG: hey 

TG: u up? 

TT: Yes. 

TG: nice 

TG: what are you doing tmrw 

TT: Why? 

TG: kk me and the hoes are going for a ‘picnic’ 

TT: Why is picnic in quotes. 

TG: because that word sounds lame as fuck 

TG: our shits way cooler than a picnic 

TG: but i dont have any cool picnic words 

TG: all picnicked out lol 

TT: Nice. 

TG: anyways jade was wondering if you wanted to come 

Dirk lowers his phone to his chest, staring straight up into the ceiling. The thought of chaperoning a playdate with two sexually repressed millennials and their dog-girlfriend sounds unappealing to say the least. The clutter in his room has gathered over the week or so in which he hasn’t left his room; to everybody else, it feels like it’s been a million years since they’ve last seen Dirk, and for Dirk, it feels like it hasn’t been long enough. He doesn’t want to break his streak, and he certainly does not want to go for a jadedavekat picnic.

TT: I’m busy tomorrow. 

TG: aw man 

TG: alright 

TG: lemme know if you change your mind 

TT: I will. 

TT: Get some sleep. 

TG: ew is it lame older bro time 

TG: im out 

TG: dave has absconded or whatever 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TT: Bye. 

TT: Dirk is also absconding. 

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

Dirk rolls onto his side and stares at the window at nighttime over Earth C. Only a few carapacians are ever out this late, and none of them seem to have any clue exactly _why_ they are out this late. They walk in circles with each other, presumably chattering amongst themselves. Dirk wonders what it’s like not to carry the weight of awareness, what it’s like to drone freely about with friends and talk about the weather. Being alone has given him a lot more time to think, which isn’t for the best.

\-----

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TG: hey there 

TT: Hey Rox. 

TG: nuh uh 

TG: no cute names not today sir 

TG: i gotta bone to pick wiht u mr strider 

TT: And what would that be? 

TG: well 

TG: a little birdie told me that you wont go hand out wiah our son >:( 

TG: *with 

TG: *hang 

TT: Who told you that? 

TG: youre avoiding tha question!! 

TG: davey asked you to go for lunch with his friends and you said no 

TG: why 

TT: Because I’m busy. Did Dave tell you? 

TG: i am not at libwrty to discuss which person did in fact tell me this 

TG: also no the fuck hell you are not!!!!!!!!! 

TG: dirk!! we all know that all you do is sit around and mope at home 

TG: it would be good for you to get outside and see some people 

TG: and dave was excited too 

TT: I’d rather talk to him personally if he’s upset. 

TG: dirk youre being weird 

TG: we all miss u lotz and are also very worried about you 

TG: dave needs to see people other than karkey and jade 

TT: If you’re that concerned, you could go with him. 

TG: i am!! 

TG: and i literally always do 

TG: but you wouldnt know that because youre never here 

TT: If you’re there all the time, then why do I have to show up? 

TG: because dave misses his older brother 

TG: is that so wrong of him 

TG: whenever anybody says your name he gets this sad little look on his face like a little kitten 

TG: do you know how sad it makes me that i cant do anything to cheer him up!?!?!? 

TG: i would give anything to be in your shoes and have the power to get a dave smile 

TG: but youre the only one who can do it 

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TG: so man up and do it 

timaeusTestified [TT] blocked tipsyGnostalgic [TG]

TG: im countin on you dirk 

Message from tipsyGnostalgic [TG] to timaeusTestified [TT] could not send [User Blocked]

\-----

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TG: _(sent attachment IMG_6235)_

TG: check it yo 

TG: me and the guy and the gal :) 

The phone on Dirk’s workbench buzzes three times consecutively, and he has no intention of reading the messages, only picking up his phone to mute it. His screen is lit red with notifications from Dave. Something gnaws at him from the inside as he slides down and hits Do Not Disturb on his phone. Surely reading a few messages won’t hurt.

He opens it, and the attachment automatically opens. Dave is naturally the one taking the selfie, the top of his aviators just clipping the bottom of the frame. Karkat is sitting in the furthest corner of the picnic table, cracking an overwhelmingly Karkatian half-assed smile. Jade has her hands on Dave’s shoulders, leaning over his head; her smile forces her eyes shut, big teeth which never got the chance to be brace-fixed bared for everybody to see. Dave is not smiling.

Dirk stares at the photo for a bit before sliding it away; the app asks if he wants to save it. He says no.

TT: Nice. 

TG: yup pretty awesome 

TG: they wish u were here 

TT: I’m sure they do. 

TG: yeah 

The lower right icon starts spinning, indicating that somebody on Dave’s end is typing. Dirk decides that he can take a little time out of his day for the conversation, sitting down in front of his desk and keeping the phone on hand.

TG: hey 

TG: awkward question 

TT: Shoot. 

TG: did you 

TG: block rox 

Shit. Dirk should’ve anticipated this.

TT: Oh. Yeah, I guess I did. 

TG: oh damn 

TG: is it okay if i ask why 

TT: It’s complicated. 

TT: And personal. 

TG: oh shit okay sorry for askin g 

TT: It’s okay. 

The yellow face in the bottom corner starts spinning, then stops, and repeats that action for what feels like a million times in a row. He just watches it go, over and over, eyes getting a bit dizzy. This is not uncharacteristic; Dave has always been unsure of where he stands, and it channels out to the way he speaks. Dirk catches him sending big sentences in small chunks as if to undercut the weight of anything he says, not for anybody’s sake but his own.

TG: are you 

TG: like 

TG: okay 

Here we go.

TT: What do you mean? 

TG: i dunno 

TG: we dont talk 

TG: like ever 

TT: We’re talking right now. 

TG: oh yeah 

TG: ig this doesnt count 

TG: but like 

TG: remember that time that we got all up in our feels and we were like 

TG: aw nuts thank jegus ive got me a bro now 

TT: I remember. 

TG: i kinda feel like 

TG: no offense or nothin 

TG: but we kinda went back on that 

TG: and like 

TG: i know me and my main man karkat and main girl harley 

TG: we got this whole thang goin 

TG: but it doesnt mean that i like 

TG: dont want to still hang out with you or whatever 

TG: and like 

TG: idk 

TG: i guess I just miss talkin to you or whatever 

Dirk’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He’s angry. He’s angry over the fact that he should feel sad but all he fucking feels is annoyed. Annoyed that Dave is venting, annoyed that everybody is on his ass, annoyed that he can’t just get a few days by himself without being hounded. He has to take his time responding, words coated in false diplomacy.

TT: I’m sorry you feel that way. 

TG: yeah 

TG: once again 

TG: no offense to you 

TG: i know u got all of your own shit and stuffs 

TT: I do. 

TG: but like 

TG: whenever youre free 

TG: itd be awesome if we could hang or whatever 

TT: I’ll keep that in mind. 

TG: :) 

TG: thanks dude 

TG: luv u or whatevers 

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

Dirk tosses the phone outside, dropping his head in his hands on the desk.

\-----

The doorbell rings; Dirk is face down on the couch, and wonders for a second if this can be counted as ‘sleeping’. Somehow, ‘sorry I didn’t answer the door, I was too busy wallowing’ doesn’t have the same charm as ‘I was literally asleep’. The doorbell, however, keeps ringing rapid fire.

Dirk rolls out of the couch, planting his feet down hard on the carpet. He grumbles under his breath, stomping hard as he makes his way to the door, although he’s sure whoever is smashing at the doorbell can’t hear it over the sound of the bell screaming. When he opens the door, it almost tears off of its hinges, rattling a little bit behind him.

Jake English, on the other side of the doorway, is so tall that his head almost brushes against the doorframe. Dirk has never noticed this before because Jake English has never made Dirk’s acquaintance at his own home. He does his signature sheepish, Prince Charming smile as he waves a little. Dirk is anything but charmed.

“What do you want?” 

“Dirk! So glad that you’re alive!” Jake pulls Dirk in for an unwilling hug; Dirk’s feet dangle in the air as he’s swept up into the embrace, glaring off into the distance as he waits for this hell to end (or for something to put him out of his misery). For a second, he thinks it could actually be the strength with which Jake is crushing him, but then he’s dropped back onto the ground, Jake keeping his hands held firmly on his shoulders. “We’ve all been so worried about you.”

Dirk groans as he turns out of Jake’s hold, stomping back inside to the living room. Jake follows suit, evident from the sound of his boots hitting the hardwood floor. The door closes behind them, leaving Dirk and Jake alone in the living room.

“Dirk?”

Dirk doesn’t turn around when he speaks to Jake, instead choosing to disappear into the kitchen. “I’m fucking fine, Jake.”

“Dirk.” Dirk has never heard Jake sound so serious while speaking to him, and it’s troubling, but more than anything it’s annoying. “I know you’re not.”

Dirk continues to deflect the conversation by grabbing a pitcher and pouring himself a glass of water which he has no intention of drinking. It’s just something to do with his hands. “Oh yeah? And how would you know that?”

Jake circles around into the kitchen, leaning against the wall with a concerned look on his face. “I always know when one of my chaps have got the blues.”

“I’m not one of your chaps.”

“Of course, you are!” Jake invites himself into the kitchen, stopping right next to Dirk. Dirk’s eyes are concentrated down at the water in his hands, and Jake is looking at Dirk, but there is no eye contact to be made here. “You’re my best bro, remember?”

“Remember? Remember what?”

“That we’re friends.” There’s a solemn attitude to what he says, and both of them can hear the uncertainty in Jake’s voice.

“You know what I remember, Jake?” The pitcher slams down against the counter, spraying a little bit of water out into the kitchen. “I remember when we fucked and then I didn’t hear from you for three weeks and thought you were dead only to find out that you just thought I was clingy.”

Jake doesn’t say anything. There isn’t anything to say in response to that, really. Dirk takes the opportunity to continue.

“Was that us being friends? Is that your definition of _friendship?_ I don’t think I want to be a part of that.” 

“Dirk-” Jake places his hand gently on Dirk’s upper back as a gesture of peace, but Dirk only flinches away from the touch. He looks up at Jake, his lips pursed to hold back some sort of emotion, but Jake can’t quite place which one it is. “I don’t… you know I’m sorry for everything I did. We were kids though.”

“Right. Of course,” Dirk scoffs.

Jake frowns a little bit. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Nothing is ever your fault, Jake. There’s always a _reason_ why you fucked up that’s just out of your control.”

Jake’s eyes narrow, and he rolls his shoulders back, reintroducing a sense of formality unbefitting of ‘friends’. “I never said that.”

This atmosphere has stopped playing into Dirk’s hand, and he walks around Jake, leaving the kitchen behind along with the glass of water he didn’t drink. “Exactly.”

“Dirk.” Jake follows his suit, his tone a warning now.

“Just leave, Jake. I don’t feel like talking to you.”

“Dirk.” Dirk is trying to escape the room, beelining for the stairs.

“Just go! Tell everybody I’m sorry or whatever it is you’re looking for and go have your Dirk Strider sob story circle jerk. I don’t want to be a part of this.”

He starts running up the stairs.

“Dirk!” 

Dirk has never heard Jake bellow like that; the whole house rumbles with the noise, and everything within it freezes. There’s no ambience. There’s no sounds from outside. Dirk thinks he can hear the sound of his own blood pumping in his ears though. It’s terrifyingly loud and he wonders if Jake can hear it too.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Dirk turns around slowly, seeing Jake (who is red in the face) at the bottom of the staircase. He knows that he’s pushed him too far and doesn’t know how to pull him back. It’s Dirk’s turn to be silent.

“We are on a paradise, Dirk. And all of us went through heaps of horror to get here. This place is supposed to be where we put back together all that fell apart during the game. And that’s what we are doing. Everybody except for _you,_ ” when he speaks about Dirk, his tone drips with a venom that he’s never used before. “And we are all scrambling to get your shit together on your behalf, and you are leaving more and more mess as we go along. And now you’re angry? That we care?”

The accusatory tone snaps Dirk out of his previous stupor, and he starts coming down the stairs, which assist him in finally standing eye-to-eye with Jake. 

“I never asked you to help me. I never asked anybody to help me. I just wanted to be alone. Leaving me alone shouldn’t hurt anybody, the damage is because you guys can’t keep to your own business.”

“We are not doing this for us, Dirk.” Jake doesn’t back down when they come up to each other’s faces, both of them trying to assert the upper hand in the situation. “Trust me, if I could be done with you forever, I would do it. I don’t want to keep picking up after you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here for Dave.”

The name makes Dirk go tense; of course, he is. Nobody is ever here for Dirk. Jake continues.

“And I think you oughta’ be ashamed of how everybody here cares more about your own son than you do.”

“He is _not_ my son. He’s my accidental brother. I don’t owe anybody anything.”

“You are being _selfish,_ Dirk!” Jake cries out in exasperation. “He is your son, and your brother, and Dave is looking for a father, or a big brother, or literally anything from you. Even just a friend would do. Can’t you look past your own issues for his sake?!” 

“Are you going to keep lecturing me or are you going to finally go?”

“Why did you even come with us if you don’t want to see us at all? I don’t get it.”

“Jake, get the fuck out of my house.”

“Answer my question.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t even want to fucking look at you anymore.”

Jake sighs in defeat, grumbling something under his breath, which is unfortunately very audible. “We should have left you in the game.”

Dirk wants to scream and shout and swear every swear under the Green Sun at Jake, but his fist moves before his lips, and he’s nailed a hit across Jake’s jaw. The sound that ripples out is closest to a crack. Jake stumbles backwards a little bit, cradling the side of his face and looking back at Dirk in shock. Dirk gives no indication that he regrets it (which he does), or that it was a mistake (which it was). 

Jake reaches out and grabs Dirk by the collar, swinging him off the stairs and sending him flying in the opposite direction. Dirk crashes back first into the wall, little pieces of popcorn ceiling coming raining down from the force that just shook the room. Dirk crumples like paper onto the floor. Jake watches as he deflates, and his stillness makes him concerned that he actually just killed him, which was (surprisingly) not his intent.

But then Dirk coughs a little and looks up, sputtering for something to say. There are no words. When Jake meets his eyes there is no anger on his end, just the solemn vow of disappointment. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself and leaves, never having taken his shoes off.

\-----

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

TG: what the fuck did you do 

TT: What? 

TG: jake 

TG: hes all fucked up 

TG: ive never seen him like that 

TG: you hurt him really bad 

TT: I think he landed a worse hit than I did. 

TG: not like that idiot 

TT: Oh. 

TG: what is wrong with you 

TG: why are you acting like this 

TT: Like what? 

TG: like 

TG: different 

TG: youre so fucking different and its weirding everybody out 

TT: You don’t know me, Dave. 

TG: what 

TT: You’re saying that I’m different and somehow negating the fact that we never even knew each other. 

TG: i don’t get what youre saying 

TT: We were never friends. 

TT: And we were never brothers. 

TT: We’ve had one proper conversation with each other, and now I’m the surrogate for everything your brother did to you. 

TT: Maybe I was throwing you a bone when we talked that time, and maybe this is who I am. 

TT: But you wouldn’t fucking know, because we don’t. Know. Each other. 

TG: what the fuck 

TG: why are you saying that 

TG: why the fuck are you doing this 

TT: I’m not doing anything. 

TT: I’m sorry I’m not the guy you thought I was, but that has nothing to do with me. 

TG: ... 

TG: i dont 

TG: what 

TG: this is confusing me 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

\-----

When Dirk finally makes some time to go outside, he finds that the sun is colder than he remembers it being. There’s a part of him that misses Texas, where the sun used to hover in the sky and cradle with you with hands like stovetops. The sky is still unreasonably bright here though, the only peace being the baseball cap that shades Dirk’s eyes. The rooftop here reminds him of the one he and Dave were stranded together on, but then again, it also just reminds him of every fucking rooftop he’s ever seen. He takes a seat on the ledge, legs dangling off the side and kicking freely in the wind. His shoelaces whip around his ankles, and he just sits there and lets them.

The city passes by underneath them, leaving him to be a standstill moment among them. Everybody has found lives to live, places to go, time to run out of, and Dirk has been left behind as an afterthought. The metal door to the rooftop creaks as it is opened. Dirk has anticipated that he will not be able to find any solitude no matter how hard he tries, so he just sighs and allows Dave to shuffle out of the walkway, taking a precarious seat next to him. Dave tries to get any kind of reaction out of Dirk, but he refuses to acknowledge his existence, staring off into the horizon.

Dave can see Dirk’s eyes underneath his shades from where he sits, and what he sees is an unwavering glare. He wonders if Dirk even noticed that Dave showed up. Dave resigns himself to looking out at the horizon as well, just glad that Dirk is allowing them to do something together. He hums a little ditty under his breath; Dave has never been one for silence.

If you looked at the two from a far, they would look like old friends, the kind who learn to find comfort in just each other’s presence. The kind of friends who feel no need to exchange any kind of conversation, finding words in the slight intricacies of their breathing and foot tapping and _fucking humming._ But Dave and Dirk could not be less like strangers right now.

Dirk is the first to break the silence, but he still doesn’t look at Dave. “What do you want?”

Dave perks up a little bit, digging the heels of his palms into his thighs nervously. “I just wanted to talk. Face to face.”

“Then talk.”

Dave spent the entire car ride over here reviewing the details with Karkat, but now he can’t remember a single thing he promised to say. He recedes into his comfort damage control. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for pushing you. And sorry for everybody else pushing you as well,” he fumbles a little bit with his fingers. “I didn’t ask them to do all that by the way. I actually told them not to. But I… yeah, I’m sorry for not just backing off and giving you all of your personal space and shit.”

“It’s fine.”

“Oh… okay.”

They go back to sitting in awkward silence, and Dave is beginning to feel a little bit distraught. His hands are shaking and he’s looking for a last-ditch effort here, and there’s only one thing left in his mind.

He leans over and tries to pull Dirk into a haphazard hug, arms shifting around torso. Both of them are built like trees and will snap just as easily as a twig, so any kind of coordination does not come easy. Dave is so awkward that it takes Dirk a second to even figure out what is going on.

When he does, something inside him shifts, and he slaps Dave’s hands away, face locking into a frown.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Dave’s heart is beating harder than his ribs can contain. “Uh… I don’t know, I thought-”

“You thought what?” Dirk leans in close to Dave’s face, and the tip of his cap is just brushing Dave’s forehead. “You thought that we were just gonna hug it out like _old pals?_ ”

“Dirk, I didn’t mean-”

“I told you what we said, in the game, it didn’t mean shit. Not a single thing. You need to learn how to fucking let go.”

Dave shoves Dirk away from him and leaps back up onto his feet. He’s gladder than ever to be wearing his sunglasses, which conceal the frustration welling in his eyes.

“Fine. I’m sorry.”

“Would you stop fucking doing that?” Dirk follows suit, hopping up onto his feet.

“Doing what?” 

“Saying sorry as a clutch.”

Dave purses his lips a little bit and slides his glasses further up his nose. “I’m saying it because I’m sorry, idiot.”

“Sorry for what, huh?”

“Sorry that you’re being such an ass for no reason!”

Dirk falters a little bit; Dave has never said anything remotely negative about Dirk, and it wavers on snapping Dirk out of his rage. But then the frustration he feels at Dave’s clinging and incessant talking starts to bubble up again, and that fire is boiling inside of his stomach, and it burns, and he has to get it out.

“Fuck you, Dave,” He begins stalking towards him. “I am so fucking sick of you; you couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine how tired I am of listening to your voice.”

“Then leave,” Dave’s voice is wavering as he walks backwards carefully, checking over his shoulder for the edge of the rooftop. 

“ _You’re_ the one who showed up here. You guys are all the ones who couldn’t just leave me alone. And now I’m an ass. Now I’m the bad guy for wanting a little fucking space.”

“I already said sorry. You made me take it back, Dirk.” 

Dave’s heels hit the edge of the rooftop, and Dirk is quick to grab him by the scruff of his shirt, keeping him from teetering off into the streets below. Dirk snarls at Dave as he speaks, and Dave has nowhere to go anymore.

“It makes me sick that I’m related to you at all, you know that? The thought that I’ve got anything to do with some fucking hyper-repressed waste of space teenager drives me up the wall. And the worst part of it all?” He leans in even closer, and Dave can just see his eyes burning a little bit red behind his shades. “You’re a fucking coward too.”

He spins them around and puts Dave back on the ground. Somebody knocks at the door, but their words are muffled beyond any kind of recognition.

Dave’s words, on the other hand, tremble as he tries to stand tall. “I am not a coward. That’s not true. I’m a hero.”

“A hero? You think you’re a fucking hero?” Dirk chuckles. “You hide from shit, Dave. Whenever trouble comes calling, you hide. You hid in the game behind all your little troll friends, and you’re hiding now.”

“Hiding what?!”

“Hiding everything about yourself.”

The banging on the door is starting to get a little more frantic. 

“Whenever you have the chance to confront anything about yourself, you run from it too. Everything I’m telling you right now, you’re gonna run from it. Run to your friends and they’re gonna help you hide from it and tell you that I’m just a dick. But I’m the only person who is ever going to be honest with you about it. Tell you the facts straight up. And right here?”

He stops walking and shoves Dave a little bit harder away from him this time. 

“Can’t abscond now, **_bro._** ”

Dave’s shades are not as protective as Dirk’s, and Dirk can see Dave’s eyes go wide. For a second, he looks catatonic, and then he topples backwards, crashing into the ground. He tries to hold himself upright on his arms, but they are shaking violently, and he is wheezing, desperate for any air to get into his lungs. His own cries are stopping him from breathing, tears slipping out from underneath the panes of his glasses. The world is closing in on Dave Strider.

He can’t bring himself to look at Dirk anymore.

With the sunlight behind him, Dirk is just a silhouette in shades and cap.

The door bursts open, and Karkat stands a little dumbfounded, eyes darting between both of them. The situation is mildly self-evident, details not present but context enough to help Karkat pick a side. Karkat rushes to Dave’s side, taking a hold of him tightly in both arms.

“Dave? Are you okay?”

Dave doesn’t say anything, just clutches onto Karkat’s sweater and buries his face into his chest. Dirk watches them, watches as Karkat looks up at him in unspoken accusations, accusations that are not currently unwarranted.

“What is wrong with you?” Karkat’s voice is nothing more than a whisper.

He doesn’t say anything. Karkat helps Dave (who still will not, and for the most part cannot, look at Dirk) to his feet. Dirk, in turn, won’t say anything, just watching as Karkat helps usher Dave out of the room, still glaring dulled daggers into Dirk. Dirk feels bad but doesn’t feel guilty. 

When the door closes, and leaves him alone, Dirk takes a seat, and waits for the sun to go down.


End file.
